


Incommunicado

by PersephonesReign



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward First Times, Eventual Fluff, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, First time for everything, Idiots in Love, Lack of Communication, M/M, Smut, Unexplored Kinks, a bit angsty, and they still can't talk about what they want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephonesReign/pseuds/PersephonesReign
Summary: Hands fumbled, teeth clacked, tongues were overenthusiastically thrust into mouths, and, in one of his more graceless moments, Crowley had toppled an entire bookshelf. He had been hopping around the room, attempting to divest himself of his jeans, but had been foiled when one foot got stuck in the leg of the absurdly tight garment.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> This is my first fic in about a decade and my first foray into the Good Omens fandom. It has been one of my favorite books for ages and, upon watching the show, I couldn't help but try my hand at writing these two lovable fools. I also really haven't written smut before, so I hope this is okay. 
> 
> This story is unbeta'd and written largely on a cellular device, so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> I would, of course, love it if you'd let me know what you think!

The first time had been...well... _awkward_ , to say the least. Even though they were an angel and a demon, and had been on Earth since the Beginning, and had done a fair amount of _research_ into the subject, their first time still had quite a lot in common with the first-time experiences of most humans; in that, research can only compensate so much for lack of comfort and practical experience. Hands fumbled, teeth clacked, tongues were overenthusiastically thrust into mouths, and, in one of his more graceless moments, Crowley had toppled an entire bookshelf. He had been hopping around the room, attempting to divest himself of his jeans, but had been foiled when one foot got stuck in the leg of the absurdly tight garment. This caused him to trip and flail quite spectacularly into one of Aziraphale’s many bookshelves. Had Crowley had been in his right mind, he would simply have willed the garments away, but he was entirely too distracted by his desire to engage in the most basic of human acts to think like a celestial...err, _formerly celestial_...being. 

"Really, my dear, do be careful." Aziraphale had admonished with an exasperated huff, as he delicately draped his shirt over the back of his desk chair. The sight of his books strewn across the floor of his shop had almost been enough to put him off of the whole affair, had it not been for the fact that a very naked Crowley had righted himself, and was now sucking a blossoming bruise into the spot where Aziraphale's neck met his shoulder with renewed vigor. Aziraphale gasped, tightening his hands into fists at his sides, briefly unsure of where and how to touch before he settled on digging his fingers forcefully into Crowley's slender hips. _Yes, this was more like it._

"Tell me what you want, angel. Anything you want from me, I'll let you have it." Crowley had practically sighed into the side of Aziraphale's throat.

"Erm...well... I think..." Aziraphale had started, embarrassed, only to be cut off by the firm press of Crowley's lips against his own.

"Tell me," Crowley breathed into the minuscule space between their mouths.

"I think I'd rather like it if you were to take me," was what cascaded out of Aziraphale's mouth in a multisyllabic jumble.

He had squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he said this, so he missed the way Crowley had recoiled slightly, eyes wide, mouth agape. Crowley took a deep (albeit unnecessary) breath, which Aziraphale had interpreted as a gasp, to steady himself before he said, "Right. Okay," and nodded his head once in resolve. "Uh...where should we..." Crowley started, trailing off as he looked around the shop.

"There's a bedroom in the back, come alon--ah!"

Aziraphale had taken Crowley's hand and started toward the aforementioned bedroom, only to be thwarted in his quest by one of his own books, an 1898 Modern English translation of _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_ , that had skittered across the floor when Crowley had overthrown the shelf that it had previously called home. Aziraphale glared at the offending object (in a way that no one on Earth would actually have described as menacing, but he did try his best) as Crowley grabbed his elbow, helping him to his feet with a muttered apology about the mess he'd caused.

Once the pair had successfully made it to the bedroom without further incident, Crowley had set about the task of removing Aziraphale’s trousers. He fumbled with the belt, cursing whoever’s side had been responsible for the invention. Now, belts in one form or another had been around since the Bronze Age, but millennia of practice under ordinary circumstances had done nothing to prepare Crowley for the Herculean labour that was undoing his angel-cum-lover’s ( _heh_ ) belt with shaking, sweating hands that had started to go tingly with anticipation and _why in Go—Sata—some-fucking-one’s name was this so bloody difficult!_

Crowley abruptly lifted his head from the task with a growl and was about to rail against the absurdity of Aziraphale’s sartorial choices-- _he very well should have known Crowley was going to be trying to get him naked, thank you very fucking much--_ when, at the same moment, Aziraphale (ever helpful) had bent down to see what exactly the trouble was. This ill-timed attempt at assistance resulted in a rather forceful collision between the crown of Crowley’s skull and Aziraphale’s nose.

“Is there something wro---ah!”

“What the --- oof!”

Crowley grunted, rubbing his head, as Aziraphale cried out, hands flying up to his face. “Oh, geez, angel, my bad, let me see...” Crowley said, grasping Aziraphale’s wrists in an attempt to remove his hands and survey the damage.

“It’s fine,” Aziraphale barked, wrenching his hands away from Crowley’s grasp. Then, seeing the concern on Crowley’s face, softly added, “I’m quite alright,” before sniffling slightly.

“Good,” Crowley replied, dropping a gentle kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek. “Now, where were we?” he muttered before continuing his task of stripping Aziraphale of the rest of his clothing.

Once both angel and demon were as uncovered as Adam and Eve had been on the day of their creation, Aziraphale took Crowley by the hand and led him to the edge of the bed. As Aziraphale scooted back on the bed, Crowley covered the angel’s body with his own, leaning down to kiss him fervently once more. He worked his way down, kissing along Aziraphale’s neck, continuing to plant kisses across the angel’s chest. His tongue laved over one of Aziraphale’s nipples, before trailing his lips to the other, nibbling at it gently. Aziraphale gasped at the sensation, throwing his head back into the pillow. Crowley worked his way downward, swirling his tongue around the angel’s navel, then licking downward to where Aziraphale’s erection lay thick and heavy against his stomach. Crowley wrapped his lips around the head of the angel’s cock and sucked, causing Aziraphale to buck his hips involuntarily into the wet heat. Crowley, unprepared for the sudden invasion of his mouth, pulled back with a cough.

“Oh, sorry! I’m...oh dear,” Aziraphale exclaimed, carding his hand through Crowley’s hair in a soothing gesture.

 “S’alright.” Crowley murmured, leaning into the touch. Determined, the demon leaned down to try again, pressing one hand into Aziraphale’s hip to hold him still while the other came up to circle Aziraphale’s cock at the base. He licked up the entirety of Aziraphale’s length once, before taking him into his mouth again, slowly working his way down the shaft. Aziraphale moaned, far more wantonly than any angel had the right to sound. “Ah, yes, that’s very good.” Encouraged, Crowley took Aziraphale deeper before bobbing his head up and down, moving his hand in the time with his mouth. 

“There’s...ahh...lubricant, in the top drawer there,” Aziraphale gasped, gesturing with his free hand.

Crowley quirked an eyebrow at the revelation but wisely decided to leave his questions for a later time. With a final hard suck, he let Aziraphale’s cock drop from his mouth, causing the angel to groan at the lack of contact. Crowley scrambled over to the edge of the bed and rifled through the drawer to find the desired object. He sat back on his knees, fumbled the cap open, and squeezed a generous amount into his hand. Tossing the tube over his shoulder, he leaned back to kiss Aziraphale gently.

“How do you want to...” he started to ask, trailing off. A slight blush touched Aziraphale’s cheeks as he rolled over onto his hands and knees, exposing himself to Crowley. He looked over his shoulder at Crowley, blush deepening as he stated, “I do believe this is probably easiest.” 

Again, Crowley found himself with more than a few questions, but he had neither the desire nor the brain power at the moment to ask them. Crowley trailed his non-lubricant covered hand along Aziraphale’s back, bending down to place a kiss at the base of his spine. He trailed his other hand up between the angel’s plump cheeks, spreading a liberal amount of lube. Aziraphale inhaled sharply, holding his breath. “Relax, angel,” Crowley murmured, circling Aziraphale’s hole with the tips of his fingers. Ever so gently, Crowley pushed his index finger past the tight ring of muscle, stopping about halfway in. “Is this okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Aziraphale blew out the breath he had been holding. “Yes, darling, keep going.”

That was all the confirmation Crowley needed, so he continued, pressing his finger all the way in. Crowley slowly slid his finger almost all the way out before slipping it back in, mesmerized by the way Aziraphale’s body clenched and relaxed around the intrusion. “ _M...more_ ,” Aziraphale gasped, pushing back against Crowley’s hand. Crowley removed his finger all the way before slipping his middle finger in alongside the first. Aziraphale groaned, arching his back. It was a strange, foreign feeling, to be sure, but Aziraphale found he rather liked the idea of Crowley’s fingers being inside him in such an intimate way. Crowley rotated his hand around slightly before separating his fingers inside Aziraphale, stretching him slowly. He crooked his fingers as he pushed in deeper, searching for the spot inside the body that he had read about during his research. After a moment of searching, his fingers brushed against the small bundle of nerves inside Aziraphale, causing the angel to moan loudly. _Bingo_ , Crowley grinned. He moved his fingers against the spot with a bit more zeal, forcing one moan after another out of his angel, whose thighs quivered with the effort to keep himself upright under the onslaught of pleasure. “Crowley...please...I’m...please,” Aziraphale gasped, so entirely distracted that he wasn’t even sure what he was asking for, just that he wanted _more_.

“Right, okay,” Crowley breathed before removing his fingers from the angel’s body. He grasped his own erection, coating it with the remaining lubricant. He bent over Aziraphale’s back, pressing his cock against the angel’s opening. He grit his teeth, pushing forward ever so gently until he felt the head slip inside. Aziraphale gasped sharply, unable to decide whether he wanted to pull away or lean back into the intrusion. Sensing the angel’s moment of discomfort, Crowley stilled, both hands coming up to rest on Aziraphale’s hips.

“Are you alright, angel?” He asked.  

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed, “Yes, keep going.”

Crowley pressed forward gradually into the welcoming heat, his entire body taut with the effort not to rush this. Finally, _finally_ , Crowley pushed himself all the way inside, hips flush with Aziraphale’s buttocks. He froze again. “Is this okay?” He asked. “Hmm...yes...” Aziraphale replied before adding, “You can move, darling.”

Crowley drew his hips back, pulling out just slightly, before pushing back in. He whimpered at the sensation as Aziraphale clenched involuntarily around him. He rocked his hips back and forth a few times, throwing his head back, his mouth falling open in a silent cry. He heard Aziraphale gasp loudly, and fearing that he’d done something wrong, stopped moving once again. “Is that okay?” Crowley asked, concerned. 

“Oh, for the love of...Crowley, _I am not going to break!”_ Aziraphale snapped, surprising both himself and Crowley with the outburst. “Erm, what I mean to say is, it feels very good, my dear. Please, don’t stop.” He amended, glancing over his shoulder to take in the shocked expression on the demon’s face.

“Oh. Okay. Good.” Crowley replied, before moving his hips again. Aziraphale moaned again, arching his back into Crowley’s movements.

“Yes, darling, like that, keep going!” He cried out.

Crowley took the hint, grasping Aziraphale’s hips tighter as he continued to thrust. He pressed himself against Aziraphale’s back, craving more contact, and placing open mouthed kisses along Aziraphale’s neck and shoulders. Before long, he felt a white-hot coil of pleasure building steadily. Crowley’s whole body tensed, and he bit his lip, desperate to stave off his orgasm until he knew Aziraphale was satisfied.

Aziraphale glided his hand down his stomach, grasping his own erection in a tight fist. He moved his hand in time with Crowley’s thrusts, tossing his head back against Crowley’s shoulder, shamelessly vocalizing his pleasure. Crowley frantically tried to stop the wave of lust that was threatening to overtake him, but the gasps and moans coming from his angel proved to be his tipping point. His hips stuttered, losing the rhythm he had built, spilling inside Aziraphale. The feeling of the demon’s cock pulsing inside of him pushed Aziraphale over the edge shortly after. Aziraphale’s legs gave out as he climaxed, causing Crowley to fall heavily on top of him. Both man-shaped beings gave a grunt of surprise at the sudden change in position. Crowley quickly rolled off of Aziraphale, pulling out of him with too much haste for both their tastes. Aziraphale grunted at the sudden loss of contact, body convulsing once.

“Shit, sorry,” Crowley said quickly, leaning over to check on Aziraphale.

“Quite alright,” Aziraphale replied, rolling over to look into Crowley’s serpentine eyes, smiling softly. He brought up a hand to touch Crowley’s cheek. “That was...nice,” Aziraphale stated.

Crowley turned his head to kiss the angel’s palm before answering, “Umm...yeah. Nice.” Suddenly feeling entirely uncomfortable in his own skin, Crowley reached down to pull the quilt from the end of the bed up to cover himself. He flopped down on his back, putting a bit of distance between himself and Aziraphale. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, unsure, for the first time in his demonic existence, of what to say next. 

Aziraphale, too, was having his own moment of uncertainty. After a few beats, he finally broke the silence, clearing his throat and adding, “Thank you, my dear.”

“Right,” Crowley responded, stiffly. He sat up, saying, “So. I mean...I should probably...you know, head back to my flat.” His eyes shifted around the room, desperate to look at anything but the face of the angel beside him, a face he was sure would be filled with disappointment. “The plants need watering,” he added, lamely.

“Oh. Of course.” Aziraphale replied, attempting to hide the hurt in his voice. “I shan’t keep you, then.” He looked over to Crowley’s side of the bed, but found, to his surprise, that it was already empty. Aziraphale felt his stomach bottom out, overwhelmed by a sinking feeling of dread. Six thousand years of dancing around one another and this was how their first foray into physical intimacy had ended. Aziraphale leaned back into his pillows with a sigh, wondering if the two of them had finally gone and cocked everything up, after all that time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, my plan is to have the next chapter explore how exactly these two ended up in this unsatisfying situation and what is going through their heads. This will have a fluffy, happy ending, not to worry. It would be great if you could let me know if you'd like me to continue :)
> 
> On tumblr @persephonesxreign. There's not much there now but I'll be posting fics there eventually, too lol.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley reflects on his desire for Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the lead-up to and the aftermath of the last chapter from Crowley's point of view. The next chapter will, of course, be from Aziraphale's perspective. Also, it has slowly become my headcanon that Crowley has a praise kink and, despite enjoying many aspects of demonic existence, secretly misses being surrounded by eternal love. Sue me. 
> 
> Oh, and sorry, I went a little footnote crazy. It's just so fun!

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” Crowley howled.

As soon as his feet touched the ground in his flat, having transmitted himself through space in his haste to extricate himself from _Aziraphale’s bed_ of all places, he immediately looked around for something to break. His eyes fell upon one of his houseplants, a _Sansevieria trifasciata **[1]**_ that was not cowering near enough for his tastes. He snatched it up and hurled it against the wall, terra-cotta, dirt, and leaves exploding on impact. Crowley turned away from the wreckage, growling, and he ran a hand roughly through his hair. He began pacing back and forth across the atrium. He was still completely naked, and he realized with a jolt that in his hasty departure, he had left the Bentley behind, double parked next to a lorry in a loading zone outside Aziraphale’s shop. Not that he was worried about getting a ticket or having the car towed -- no, that was not going to happen to _his_ car on _his_ watch -- but he did dread the fact that, sooner or later, he was going to have to go back to retrieve the car. For a brief, panicked moment Crowley thought, _well, it was a wonderful car while it lasted, we had our fun, but I guess I’m never going to see it again_  before he let out a maniacal giggle and frantically shook his head. No, no, no, he would never leave the Bentley behind. Plus, this was _Aziraphale_ he was talking about. He would have to go back eventually...right?

Six thousand years. _Six thousand years_ of dancing around the mutual attraction, the desire ( _the love_ , dare he entertain the thought) that had slowly blossomed between them, maintaining a friendship – _a partnership_ – all the while, and in one ill-conceived moment of passion, Crowley had gone and fucked it all up.  _How could this possibly have happened?_ Crowley ceased his pacing and slouched against the wall before sliding down to sit on the floor, knees tucked to his chest. 

It had all begun after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t, after the angel and demon had successfully switched bodies to avoid both holy and unholy retribution. They had a wonderful lunch at the Ritz and drank perhaps a bit too much champagne.[2] Following their meal, Aziraphale had invited Crowley back to the newly restored shop for another beverage[3] and Crowley had accepted[4]. It’s not every day one averts the end of the world and escapes annihilation at the hands of one’s so-called sides, thanks to a centuries-old prophecy made by a witch with a flair for spontaneous combustion. They had damn well earned their freedom and a spot of relaxation, so why not let the celebration continue, he had thought[5].

Aziraphale had liberally poured two glasses of 1959 Bertani _Amarone della Valpolicella Classico **[6]**_ before settling onto the couch next to Crowley and raising a toast to their success. Eventually, their conversation had meandered toward the topic of all the things the angel and demon were looking forward to continuing to experience on Earth, now that it seemed the forces of Heaven and Hell were content to leave them to their own devices.[7] It seemed that they were finally, well and truly, on their own side at last. In a surprisingly sincere and uncommon show of emotion, Crowley had made a confession. After all, the timing seemed appropriate.[8]

"Honestly, angel, what I mean to say is that...ehh...while I'm certainly pleased as punch," Crowley had started, popping the first letters of the phrase in exaggerated fashion, "that, you know, we've managed to save the Earth from going up in..." He'd made a sound vaguely like an explosion, and mimed the shape of a mushroom cloud with his hands, "what with the dolphins, and the posh restaurants and the...erm...old bookshops down here," He'd glanced around the room, as much to take in the sight of the restored bookshop that he had once watched burn down around him as to avoid making eye contact with a certain angel sitting beside him, "I'm really, uh, glad, um," He looked at the ceiling, "what I mean to say is...well, it really wouldn't mean much of anything at all if you weren't here." He'd cleared his throat and after a pause added, "with me, that is." 

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale had sighed longingly. He had brought his hand to Crowley’s cheek, gently turning the demon’s face to him so that he could gaze into Crowley’s arylide eyes. "I feel the same way, dear boy."

Without thinking, Crowley had leaned into the touch and covered the back of Aziraphale’s hand with his own, trapping it against his cheek. He laced their fingers together and squeezed the angel’s hand tightly, afraid for one irrational moment that if he let ago Aziraphale might disappear. Aziraphale had gasped faintly and Crowley had leaned almost imperceptibly closer. His eyes raked over Aziraphale’s features, pausing at his lips. Crowley licking his own in a not-so-entirely-subconscious gesture of desire. He wanted so badly to see what the angel's lips tasted like. Crowley opened his mouth, perhaps to vocalize that particular thought, when he suddenly found himself with a lap full of Aziraphale. The angel threw his arms around the demon’s neck, and the next thing said demon knew, he was being kissed enthusiastically. It had not been the most sophisticated kiss, per se; their teeth had clacked almost painfully as Aziraphale mashed their mouths together, and there had been entirely too much tongue being sloppy thrust into his mouth for Crowley’s tastes, but at that moment all that mattered to him was the fact that he was. _Finally. Kissing. Aziraphale. **[9]** _

When their lips had eventually parted, both gasping for air (despite not actually needing it), Crowley had said, dumbfounded, “I thought I went too fast for you, angel.”

Aziraphale had leaned back slightly, smiling in an indulgent and mildly patronizing fashion, stating “Crowley, my dear, I was mostly referring to your atrocious driving. Plus, I rather think that six-thousand years of courtship is taking it plenty slow, don’t you?” Crowley found that he couldn’t argue with that logic, so he immediately resumed kissing his angel with gusto.

And that’s when, Crowley supposed, everything had rather gone to _Hel_ \-- _Heav_ \--ahem, _downhill_. But how had it happened? _It may have started when I knocked over the bookshelf_ , Crowley mused, despondent. But for goodness' sake, it had been an accident! How was Crowley to know that all it took was the weight of one lanky demon to send one of the shelves crashing to the floor? _That's a damn safety hazard, that is. Should have been bolted down_ , Crowley thought bitterly.

He sighed. It hadn’t just been the bookshelf, he knew that. It was that there had been...so much _hype_ , so much _anticipation,_ built up over centuries. Their lovemaking had not gone anything at all as Crowley had imagined, and oh, he had imagined it. Dozens of times, in dozens of ways, under a variety of circumstances, sometimes late at night when he was alone, and _he could tease himself with thoughts of Aziraphale's hand on him rather than his own, and..._ Crowley shook his head. Now was definitely not the time to be entertaining _those_ thoughts. 

The reality, on the other hand, had been...well... a bit of a letdown. It was not as though Crowley lacked a substantial amount of knowledge about humanity's various pursuits of carnal pleasure--he was a demon after all. Lust was a staple temptation. But, while some demons may have chosen to partake in the sin themselves, Crowley preferred to encourage a few salacious glances here, contribute a well-timed lascivious whisper there -- and then he was on his way before the deed commenced between the two, or more, humans. Humans who, after all, had never really _done it_ for Crowley. There was only one being on Earth who really _did it_ for Crowley, and that being was of a decidedly more otherworldly variety.

Crowley could not precisely recall the moment when his heart had started to flutter at the mere thought of the Principality, but he wagered it was around the time the two of them had stood together atop the wall of the Garden, watching Adam fend off a hungry-looking lion with Aziraphale's flaming sword. The angel had been so downright _cute,_ in both his concern for the humans and in his worry that he had somehow done the wrong thing by giving away his sword. And then he had smiled _so brightly_ when Crowley reassured him that angels could not _do_ the wrong thing. Of course, what he had really meant to say was that _Aziraphale_ could not do the wrong thing. Other angels made mistakes, certainly, how did he think demons came to be? It wasn't as if Crowley had Fallen on purpose, for Heaven's sake. He hadn't even realized what was happening until it was too late. But, no, that could not happen to Aziraphale, never to  _this_ angel. Then, Aziraphale had interrupted Crowley's thoughts by offering him shelter from the approaching storm with his own wing, and as Crowley scooted ever so slightly closer to the angel’s side, he knew he was hooked. Aziraphale was just so... _pure_ and _kind_ in a way that Crowley had almost forgotten existed and certainly had not experienced since the Fall. Crowley found himself wanting to get closer and closer to Aziraphale. He _hated_ , loathed, **abhorred** to admit it, even to himself, but deep-down, Crowley found himself wanting to please the angel. _His_ angel. Crowley relished in the joy on Aziraphale's face when the demon performed a minor miracle on his behalf as part of their Arrangement; he delighted in the way Aziraphale closed his eyes in ecstasy as he savored his favorite foods while they dined together; he _devoured_ the way Aziraphale beamed at him and gripped Crowley’s hand in both of his when he saw the demon again after some time had passed since their last encounter. The feeling of making Aziraphale happy was the closest Crowley could come to experiencing God's love again, feeling Her warmth and Her light. Hell, when Crowley was with the angel, he did not even miss the love of the Almighty. He had something altogether better: he had _Aziraphale’s_ love, _his_ warmth, _his_ light.[10] And Aziraphale would never forsake him, unlike _some_ Heavenly beings.

When Crowley had imagined their first time together, he had always pictured something tender. Soft, languid kisses filled with millennia worth of longing. Gentle caresses over planes and curves of a body that Crowley had memorized with his eyes throughout the centuries, before he had been allowed to touch. Beautiful words of encouragement and adulation falling from Aziraphale’s lips as Crowley _positively worshipped_ the angel. There was no need to rush, for the two immortal beings had all the time in the world to explore one another. In his mind, it had always been, well, an almost _religious experience_. That was certainly not what happened. He hadn’t even been able to see Aziraphale’s face, to kiss him and touch him as he had wanted to all these years. The train of thought made Crowley sneer[11]. Demons didn't have any business having _feelings_ , being _vulnerable_ , wanting _to make_   _love_ , let alone acknowledging those desires.......And, after all, Aziraphale might just  _laugh_ at him. Crowley groaned, pitching his head back against the wall with a heavy thud. This was all so messed up. What the hell was he going to do? 

 

[1] More commonly known as “the snake plant,” or “viper’s bowstring hemp.” Perhaps the reason that the plant failed to cower before Crowley was because it sensed a kindred spirit.

[2] But, after all, they had been celebrating a job well done. In circumstances such as these, is there really such a thing as ‘too much champagne’?

[3] As was customary.

[4] As he always did.

[5] He would not have declined the invitation, even on a perfectly normal day.

[6] The _vigneron_ for this particular vintage had noted this in his journals: “Very good seasonal condition, characterized by a fairly dry spring and winter. This caused a reduced crop but excellent levels of ripening. The summer was hot and sunny and the good autumn favoured very healthy grapes with high sugar content.”

[7] At least for the time being.

[8] Combined with the amount of wine in his system.

[9] The angel did taste as delicious as Crowley had imagined. Like fine wine, sweet meringue, and sunshine.

[10] It had not even occurred to Crowley to consider how appalled and astonished (though also strangely warm and flattered) Aziraphale would have been had he heard this kind of sacrilege.

[11] And the sneer made Crowley’s houseplants quake rather violently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and comments give me life. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale reflects on his relationship with Crowley and his more carnal desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I stayed up to write this chapter rather than working on my memo that’s due later this week (ugh, law school). I hope my misplaced, NOPE, readjusted priorities resulted in something enjoyable :)

Aziraphale sighed for the fifteenth time in the intervening hour and a half since Crowley had abrupted relocated his physical form from the shop.[1] _From my bed_ , Aziraphale amended, heaving his sixteenth sigh. He tightened the belt of his plaid dressing gown around his middle. The robe had been a gift from Crowley, during the early 1970s, when he had suggested the angel try out another pattern besides tartan.[2] Aziraphale had not exactly been amenable to the idea at the time, but the robe had been made of such a _luxurious_ merino wool...

He clasped his cup of cocoa tightly in both hands as he lowered himself into his favorite overstuffed armchair, tucked away in the reading nook of his shop. He was still feeling a bit, well, _shell-shocked_ as a result of Crowley’s hasty departure. He simply could not imagine how everything had gone so wrong. The evening had started out so lovely, after all. Following their celebratory lunch at the Ritz, Aziraphale had invited Crowley back to the shop for another drink. When Crowley had accepted, Aziraphale felt exhilarated, his heart hammering so hard against his chest that he was almost sure the demon could hear it.[3] _Finally_ , Aziraphale had thought, _we’re free._ _Free to do what we please_. 

The angel had spent quite a bit of his spare brain power since the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t contemplating his relationship with the demon Crowley. He had known that he harbored deep-seated feelings of a romantic nature for the demon for...eons now. He had certainly enjoyed Crowley’s company, in the Beginning, what with him being the only other creature of a supernatural sort around for him to talk to, but it had flourished into something more. Aziraphale remembered how his heart had leapt when he’d heard the demon’s voice resonate from across the bar the time they had crossed paths in Rome. And he remembered how his stomach had fluttered pleasantly as Crowley had quirked his eyebrows, staring down the tip of his nose at the angel, mystifying, serpentine eyes just barely visible over his glasses, his mouth upturned in a slight smirk after Aziraphale had flubbed his attempt to invite Crowley to try oysters.[4] For all Aziraphale’s talk of temptation, it was Crowley himself who had looked uniquely _tempting_ in that moment. And Aziraphale recalled how warm he had felt inside when Crowley had agreed to make _Hamlet_ a success, his ‘treat.’ There was the time in Paris, where Crowley had saved him from a rather inconvenient discorporation. Aziraphale had scoffed at Crowley when he had appeared in the cell, but only to hide his reaction to the fact that Crowley had been so distractingly _delicious-looking_ in that dark outfit. Not to mention the unfortunate ‘holy water’ debacle at St. James’ Park. Aziraphale had been so **angry** with Crowley, then, and not just because he had feared a divine reckoning for their ‘fraternization _’_. Aziraphale simply could not _believe_ that Crowley had even _considered_ the idea of his permanent destruction, _of leaving him behind._ All these encounters had unquestionably solidified the angel’s affection and attraction toward the demon, but it was when Crowley had saved him _and his books_ during his ill-fated meeting with those damnable Nazis in 1941, that Aziraphale realized he had gone and _fallen quite in love_ with Crowley. In 1967, when Crowley had offered to take Aziraphale anywhere he wanted to go, the angel would have loved to have been able to respond with “ _well then, take me back to your flat and **take me** , you delectable creature_,” but he had still so feared the consequences of their union. But now, with the Apocalypse on hold indefinitely and their respective sides scared out of their wits, Aziraphale was finally free to pursue that which his heart most desired.[5]

In the past, Aziraphale had (in those quiet moments when he allowed himself the indulgence of fantasizing about engaging in a relationship of a more physical nature with Crowley) pictured their first time going quite differently. Despite the common misconceptions surrounding angels and sexual congress, Aziraphale was not entirely ignorant about the particulars of the act. His side had, after all, invented procreation, and subsequently, sexual recreation. And, Aziraphale was nothing if not a consummate bibliophile. In his centuries of book collecting, Aziraphale had not only procured a sizeable compendium of first editions, signed copies, and misprints, but had also amassed an impressive assortment of what were colloquially referred to as _bodice-rippers_.[6] You know, the kind that sported covers adorned with swooning, ample-bosomed women clutched tightly in the arms of debonair yet roguish gentlemen, all tall, dark, and handsome. Aziraphale shivered. He had spent several hours over the last few years engrossed in the harlequin tales and daydreaming about a certain tall, dark, and handsome _demon_ in his life. The stories rather reminded him of himself and Crowley in many respects. The characters in his stories often started out with diametrically opposed interests, only to find themselves thrust into a situation where the pair were forced to work together and, along the way, get to know one another.[7] Or, the stories featured star-crossed lovers were kept apart by forces outside their control, only to find their way back to one another again and again. The stories also often featured a slow-burning romance that spanned across many years, built upon long-suffering glances, ‘accidental touches,’ and conversations laced with innuendo and equivocal witticisms.      

Aziraphale had imagined that when the time came for him and Crowley to take their relationship to the next level, as it were, the encounter would play out rather like the, ahm, _climax_ of his erotic tales. It had all started well enough. Crowley had made such a touching declaration of his feelings and had grasped Aziraphale’s hand as if he were frightened that the angel might suddenly be taken from him. Aziraphale, in a moment of overwhelming passion, had flung himself into Crowley like one of the heroines in his well-loved books, the pair coming together in what Aziraphale had considered a rather searing kiss. There had been a few mishaps on their way to his bed, certainly[8], but for once it had all seemed like things were coming together. 

And during the act, Aziraphale had tried his best to be alluring, even going so far as to present himself to Crowley on his hands and knees in a position that all his reading told him was sufficiently _tempting_. But Crowley had been so...uncharacteristically hesitant about proceeding. Aziraphale had rather expected more, well, fiery passion from Crowley. He was a _demon_ , after all. Surely, he would not be opposed to engaging in a bit of bodice-ripping of his own. Aziraphale had feared that Crowley had ultimately changed his mind about the whole fornication business. Not necessarily about the idea of fornicating in general, but about the idea of -- sod it all -- fucking _Aziraphale_. This thought caused Aziraphale to blush deeply, choking on a sip of cocoa he had been taking. It was all rather un-angelic when he put it like that, but Aziraphale realized that was _what he wanted_. Aziraphale sighed once more.[9]   _Well, surely Crowley will be back soon_ , Aziraphale thought. He would have to return at some point, Aziraphale knew. He had seen the Bentley still parked out front, after all.[10] Then, Aziraphale would have a chance to make things right.

 

[1] This was approximately one sigh every six minutes. Considering that the average person (or person-shaped being) takes roughly 16 breaths per minute, or 1,440 breaths in the span of an hour and thirty minutes, Aziraphale did not think that this was too dramatic of a ratio, given the nature of the situation.

[2] While the terms “tartan” and “plaid” are often used interchangeably, they are in fact quite different (at least by Aziraphale’s standards). The pattern of tartan consists of stripes running vertically that are duplicated EXACTLY on the horizontal axis, while in regard to plaids, the pattern of the vertical stripe does not have to match the pattern of the horizontal stripe. 

[3] Over the years, Aziraphale had found that the organs in his human form tended to react in all kinds of strange ways to Crowley’s company.

[4] Aziraphale may or may not have known at the time that oysters were considered a potent aphrodisiac. He would never tell.

[5] It was Crowley, in case that had not been made abundantly clear.

[6] Aziraphale preferred to think of his collection as _historical erotica_.

[7] The old “Enemies to Lovers” trope was quite well represented on Aziraphale’s shelves.

[8] The first thing Aziraphale had done once he had gotten over the initial shock of Crowley's post-coital hasty retreat was clean up the toppled bookshelf.

[9] This was the seventeenth time, for those keeping track.

[10] Aziraphale had been looking out the window when a parking enforcement officer had started to write a ticket for the Bentley. The officer had suddenly abandoned his task when he was stricken with the all-consuming desire to disavow his menial job for the pursuit of his life-long dream of becoming a professional juggler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will see Crowley and Aziraphale back together again to discuss what happened (and likely to get naked again). 
> 
> Heh, I feel like I lured people into this story with smut in the first chapter, only to trick people into reading two plot chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale finally talk it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, finally, confession time! Please enjoy these feels.

The Bentley sat outside A.Z. Fell & Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books for three days. Three miserable days. Even for a being that had been around some six thousand years, it felt like an eternity. Not that Aziraphale had been counting.[1] He had certainly not been gazing wistfully out the window, staring at the antique car, wishing he could will a certain demon into existence in the driver’s seat.[2] At the present moment, though, Aziraphale was in the back of the shop, making himself a cup of Earl Grey. He heard the bell above the shop’s front door chime. _Odd._ He thought. _I swore I’d locked up._

He put on his most polite yet firm voice as he walked into the main room. "Excuse me, my dear, but we're currently closed for the...Ah.” His voice turned to ice. “Hello, Crowley.”

Crowley turned around. He had been looking out the window at the Bentley. The angel stood ramrod straight, feet slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back. He looked like a soldier at attention. The comparison almost made Crowley laugh[3], but he was suddenly choked by a feeling of sadness for having caused the angel so much discomfort. Sure, Crowley had done many things in the past that made Aziraphale a tad bit uncomfortable,[4] but the angel had never appeared so affronted by his mere presence in the room.

"Hallo, angel..." Crowley started, sheepish. He brought one hand up to the scratch the back of his head, his other thumb hooked in a belt loop. "How's things?"

Aziraphale scoffed, a harsh sound from the back of his throat, and turned on his heel. He started marching toward the back room of the shop, muttering something under his breath. He stopped abruptly. "No!" He shouted with rather more force than the demon was accustomed to hearing from him and stomped his foot once. The angel turned around.

"No." He said again, quieter this time but every bit as forceful. He narrowed his eyes at Crowley. "I will not stand for this, demon."

"Oi, so it's 'demon' n..."

"Oh, do shut up!"

Aziraphale advanced on Crowley, making his way back across this room with practiced, even strides. For a brief moment, Crowley was actually frightening that Aziraphale was going to discorporate him[5]. He was thankful that his dark glasses hid the fearful widening of his eyes. Crowley took several steps backwards away from Aziraphale's advancing form until he felt his back hit one of the shelves. _Hey, looks like he's had them bolted down_ , he was able to think momentarily before Aziraphale was on him. The angel grabbed a fist full of Crowley's shirt in one hand and while he jabbed a finger on the other at Crowley's face.

"How dare you?" Aziraphale _hissed._ "It has been three days since I last saw you, Crowley, since you vanished from my bed after our...our first time together, and you think the appropriate thing to do is waltz in here and ask me how things are going?"

"I'm..."

"Shut. Up." Aziraphale ground out. "I am not finished yet. You can bloody well wait your turn." He shoved Crowley back against the shelf, hard, before he released his grip on the demon's shirt and took a step back. He scowled, eyes flashing in anger once again, and for a brief moment Crowley thought Aziraphale was going to hit him before the fire seemed to drain out. Aziraphale ran a hand over his face, sighing. "How do you imagine it's been going since you left, Crowley? It has been altogether _terrible_."

"I'm..." Crowley started again but Aziraphale cut him off with a glare. 

"I've hardly been able to think about anything else. I haven't been able to do _anything_ , not to eat, to read..." Aziraphale said, pained. "I've spent practically all my time alternating between staring at the phone waiting for it to ring and staring out the window waiting for you to come back. _Hoping_ that you would come back." He crossed his arms across his chest, defensive. "You left, Crowley. You just...left. You came up with possibly the lamest excuse I have ever heard, and then you disappeared. For Heaven's sake, you didn't even put your clothes back on!"

Crowley stared at the floor.

"After all that time, we were finally...together.” Aziraphale blushed. “And I had foolishly allowed myself to think for a moment that...that maybe it had meant something to you." The angel stared at the floor, too.

Crowley's head snapped up. "Oh, angel..." He breathed. It was Crowley's turn to advance on Aziraphale, crossing the room to his angel in three long strides, taking his glasses off as he went. He cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands, forcing the angel to look him in the eyes. “It meant everything.” He admitted softly before peppering the angel’s face with gentle kisses.

“ _Oh, Crowley_...oh...oh, Crowley! Stop that!” Aziraphale snapped, pulling away from the demon’s affections.  “You can’t just...why you can’t just _saunter_ back in here and expect everything to be alright!” Crowley recoiled as if he had been struck, but then he took a deep breath, nodding.

“You’re right, Angel. Of course, you’re right. We should...I mean...if you wanted...we should.” He cleared his throat. “We should talk about it?” He asked, more meekly than intended.

“Quite right,” Aziraphale stated. “Come along. I’ve got the kettle on,” he added before turning around to walk into the back room of the shop. Crowley waited for a beat before following him, trailing at a distance. When he entered the room, Aziraphale was finishing pouring two cups of tea. “Sit,” he said, nodding to the couch. Crowley took his tea, careful not to let his hand brush Aziraphale’s, and sat. The angel sat in the armchair across from him. “Well, my dear, you wanted to talk. Talk.”

Crowley’s mouth went dry. He took a large gulp of his tea. “Well...erm. Well, you see, angel, I...” he trailed off. “I suppose I should start with an apology.”

Aziraphale snorted.

“I’m...well, I’m really, _really_ sorry I ran out on you that. And left you hanging for days. I should have, ahem, I should have at least called.”

“You shouldn’t have left like that in the first place,” Aziraphale stated, primly.

“You’re right. I just...you see I... what I mean is...”

“Go on.” 

“I panicked, alright!” Crowley shouted. He leapt to his feet, teacup falling from his grasp to shatter on the floor. “After six thousand years, I finally had everything I ever wanted, and I didn’t know how to bloody deal with it and I panicked, is that what you want to hear!?”

“Everything you ever wanted?” Aziraphale whispered. His chest felt tight. “So, it was merely about the physical act for you, was it?” He asked, heartbreak evident in his voice.

Crowley froze. _I am fucking this up **so** badly. **Again.**_

Aziraphale waved his hand. The teacup came back together and righted itself on the table. “Right then.” He said, standing. “Well, if that’s all you have to say then I suppose you really should go.”

Hearing this, Crowley came back to himself. “No, you stupid angel!” he cried. “How could you possibly think that? That isn’t what I meant at all!” He growled in frustration, collapsing back into the couch. He groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I’m not...I can’t...uuuuggggh!” Crowley exclaimed. He looked at Aziraphale, who was staring at him with an astonished and puzzled expression. “I am not good at this.” He muttered.

Aziraphale let out a chuckle that seemed to, judging by his expression, catch him by surprise. He sat back down. “Evidently. Well, my dear, since you seem to be having such trouble expressing yourself, allow me to tell you what it meant to me.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. 

“Crowley, I have loved you every day for decades now. Centuries, even. You are my closest friend and the most important thing in my world. I have longed for you, deeply.” He took a steading breath. “I had been so very frightened of what would happen if I told you, if we were to be together. I thought you might simply laugh at me. And I was afraid that the forces of Hell might destroy you or that Heaven might take me away from you, and... well, I must admit I had been rather fearful in past that it might cause me to Fall. But I realized that under no circumstances would I _ever_ allow either of our sides to separate us, and I certainly don’t believe that loving you could possibly be the wrong thing for me to do. After all this time...well, it just seems that it was somewhat destined to have happened. And I, for one, am quite glad that it did.”

Crowley stared at the angel, mouth hanging open. Aziraphale continued, “Given the length of time that I have harbored these feelings for you, it was...well. Unavoidable, really, that I would envision what our first intimate encounter would be like. I rather think I had a lot of, um, expectations associated with the whole thing. And that isn’t...I don’t mean to say that I was dissatisfied. But I do think that perhaps we rushed into things a bit.”

Crowley threw his head back and laughed. “Rushed into things? Six thousand years wasn’t long enough for you?”

“ _Oh, you_...that is certainly not what I meant.” Aziraphale huffed.  “I just meant that I do believe we should have had this precise conversation before rushing into the bedroom, as it were.”  

Crowley nodded. “Well, when you’re right, you’re right, angel. Probably would’ve saved us from all this mess and... hang on, can we double back a bit? Did you just say that you love me?”

Aziraphale blushed an alarming shade of pink. “I suppose I did.” He acknowledged, softly.

Crowley’s eyebrows rose almost high enough to meet his hairline. “And you mean, like, _love_ love? As in, _in love_? In the romantic sense? Not in the ‘I’m an angel of the Lord and I love all creatures of the Earth, great and small’ sense?”

“Really, my dear, I rather thought that was clear...” 

Crowley’s face broke into a wide grin. “Well, hell, angel, I love you, too.”

Aziraphale blinked. “You... you do?”

Crowley laughed. “Don’t be daft, angel. Why’d you think I kept you around all these years?” Crowley rose from the couch and knelt in front of Aziraphale, taking the angel’s hand in his. “I mean it, angel. I love you,” he repeated.

Aziraphale brought up his free hand to stroke Crowley’s cheek. “I love you, t—ah!” Aziraphale exclaimed as Crowley swiftly scooped him up out of the armchair, one arm under his knees, the other braced behind his back. The demon spun around once and fell back into the couch, Aziraphale landing across his lap.

“Crowley! Whatever was that for?”  

Crowley nuzzled at the angel’s neck, answering “You were too far away over there and the floor’s a bit uncomfortable.” Aziraphale leaned into Crowley’s affections, losing himself for a moment before he jerked back suddenly. “Oh, no, not again. This is exactly what happened last time. Crowley, we are finishing this conversation!” He eyed the demon sternly.

“Alright, alright,” Crowley acquiesced, releasing his hold on Aziraphale, who maneuvered out of the demon’s lap and onto the couch beside him, keeping a comfortable distance. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You still have not given me an adequate explanation for why you ran away like that.”

“Didn’t run away,” Crowley grumbled. Aziraphale glared.

“Alright! I took my leave _in a hurried fashion_ because...well, I was worried I’d disappointed you.”

“Disappointed me?”

“Yeah! I mean, it all happened so fast, we barely got to, well, erm...”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, though not unkindly. “Got to what, dear?”

“It’s just that...I had always expected we’d sort of take our time,” Crowley admitted. “I wanted to make it good for you, angel, to give you what you deserve.”   

“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale sighed, gazing lovingly at his companion before he giggled, adding “I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“As if,” Crowley scoffed. “Thought maybe you might be into it, though...” He muttered.

Aziraphale smiled indulgently. “That would make me very happy, my dear.”

“Now hold on a minute,” Crowley interjected. “You said you’d _envisioned_ us making the beast with two backs,” He smirked. “How did you think it was going to go?”  

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say I’d imagined the particulars...”

“Aziraphale, I told you what I thought.”

“But, Crowley, I couldn’t possibly...” 

“ _Angel._ ”

 “Oh, alright! Persistent thing. I suppose I’d rather thought that it would be, well, _intense_ is maybe the word. Passionate. Not to say that it wasn’t, necessarily...” Aziraphale backtracked. “But, you seemed so hesitant, and it worried me because I’d always imagined that you would...well... want to _ravish me_.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was possible for his vessel to facilitate any deeper of a blush.   

“I see...” Crowley hummed, eyes locked on Aziraphale’s face. He laughed, darkly. “You wanted the big, bad demon to _devour you_ , eh? Oh, Azzzssssiraphale...” He grinned, all teeth. “You wanted _rapture_.”

Aziraphale found that he had been wrong in his earlier assessment that he could not blush any harder.

“I suppose I...”

The angel’s words were cut off by the sudden press of lips to his own. Crowley brought one hand up to tangle in the soft curls at the back of Aziraphale’s neck, tugging sharply to adjust the angle. His other hand came up to cup under Aziraphale’s jaw, fingers squeezing gently against his neck, just the threat of pressure. Aziraphale moaned. Crowley used the opportunity to slip his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth, flicking it quickly against the back of the angel’s upper teeth. Crowley then captured the angel’s plush lower lip between his teeth _and pulled_. Aziraphale gasped sharply at the sensation. Crowley released Aziraphale and leaned back with a smirk.

“Something like that, angel?” He asked, a bit too breathless to sound as suave as he’d intended.

“Yes. That was... _wonderful_.” Aziraphale panted, chest heaving. 

Crowley’s smirk turned into a full-on grin. “What do you say we try again?"

 

[1] He most certainly had.

[2] See above.

[3] Because, after all, even though Aziraphale was technically a card-carrying member of the Heavenly Host, Crowley had actually seen him try to wield a flaming sword.

[4] Most of them had been on purpose and all in good fun. At least for Crowley.

[5] That hadn't happened since a particularly nasty run-in prior to the Arrangement involving an Egyptian orgy, a runaway cobra, and an overturned buffet table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this story will probably be one more chapter (mostly smut), maybe two. I hope you've enjoyed it so far!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale try again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sorry this took so long to post! School/work really caught up with me. 
> 
> Hopefully, these 2,000 words of smut will make up for the wait.

"What do you say we try again?"

"Yes. Yes, I rather think I would like that."

Crowley rose from the couch. He turned to stand in front of Aziraphale and placed one hand on each of the angel's thighs. Aziraphale gasped as Crowley slowly slid his hands up and then raked his nails back down. Crowley pushed the angel's legs apart and stepped into the space he'd created. Warm palms glided over Aziraphale's stomach, chest, and shoulders, making him shiver. Crowley braced himself against the back of the couch, bracketing Aziraphale in. He leered over the angel, leaning in so close that their noses almost brushed. Crowley bent down to lick a wet stripe up the angel's neck and caught his earlobe between sharp teeth, biting down hard before laving his tongue over it to soothe the sting. Aziraphale moaned, bringing his hands up to grip the lapels of Crowley's jacket.

Crowley leaned back as far as Aziraphale's grip would allow to look him in the eyes and hiss, "Are you sure this is what you want, angel? I won't go easssssy on you this time."

Aziraphale shuttered. "Yes," he breathed.

"Yesssss, what, angel?"

"Yes, Crowley, I want this... I want you." He said before adding a whispered, "please..."

Crowley grinned, teeth looking even sharper than they had before. His eyes were wild, entirely yellow-gold now without a hint of white showing, as they had been the first time the two had met in the garden.[1] He grabbed the angel by his downy locks and yanked upward. Aziraphale leaped to his feet, following the demon's unrelenting instruction. Crowley slammed their mouths together, kissing the angel forcefully. Aziraphale drew in a ragged breath against the other’s mouth.

Crowley pulled the angel's body flush with his own, tangling their tongues together. He then proceeded to kiss across Aziraphale's cheek and down to where the joint of the angel's jaw met his neck, sucking harshly and grazing his teeth against the soft flesh.

“Crowley, please...please touch me," Aziraphale cried out.

"Touch you where, angel?" Crowley asked with a smirk. "Here?" He rubbed his thumb tenderly across the angel's cheek.

"Here?" He asked again, bringing a hand up to grope Aziraphale's arse.

"Or do you mean here?" Crowley cupped the bulge in the front of the angel's trousers and squeezed gently.

Aziraphale gasped. "Yes, yes, Crowley, I need..." The demon cut him off with another searing kiss.

"Not yet, angel," Crowley admonished while brushing his hand over Aziraphale's rapidly hardening length, caressing him with barely enough pressure to even be considered a tease.

"You'll get your turn. But first..." Crowley stepped back, away from Aziraphale. The angel whimpered and tried to follow but was stopped. Crowley grabbed both of Aziraphale's shoulders and pushed downwards. Aziraphale took the hint, falling to his knees before the demon. He reached for Crowley's belt, but his hands were slapped away. Crowley undid his belt himself before undoing the button on his jeans and ever so slowly sliding down the zip. He pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to expose his cock. He wrapped one hand around himself and gave a few slow strokes. Aziraphale watched, rapt, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Crowley..." 

"Shusssssh..." The demon reached out a hand to insistently grasp the back of the angel's head, pulling him closer. He rubbed the tip of his cock over the angel's lips, who tentatively flicked out his tongue to get a taste. Crowley hissed. "Open."

Aziraphale complied. Crowley ran his thumb over Aziraphale's tongue before hooking it in the angel's cheek to stretch his lips open even wider. He slowly guided himself into the angel's sinfully hot mouth. 

“Now ssssssuck.”

Aziraphale closed his lips around the demon’s length and did as he was bid. Crowley tossed his head back and moaned, gripping Aziraphale’s hair a little tighter.

“Yesssss, that’s it, my angel.” 

Aziraphale moaned, the vibrations shooting up Crowley’s spine. The angel bobbed his head slowly, alternating between sucking and working his tongue around Crowley’s cockhead. Crowley began to move his hips to speed up the pace, shallowly thrusting into the angel’s mouth. It was a messy affair, saliva filling Aziraphale’s mouth and running down his chin, causing him to slurp around the demon’s cock. Crowley looked down to meet Aziraphale’s eyes and almost came at the sight. The angel looked dirty and debauched, mouth completely full of Crowley’s cock. Crowley pulled Aziraphale to his feet, kissing the angel sloppily. He could taste himself on the angel’s tongue. He broke the kiss and wiped the angel’s mouth, pressing down gently as he dragged his thumb over kiss-swollen lips. “Fuck, angel, you’re gorgeous like this. Not that you aren’t all the time, but shit, this...you...”

Aziraphale giggled. “Not as gorgeous as you, my darling.” He cupped the demon’s face in both hands and kissed him again. “You look...absolutely primal.”

“Oh, I’ll show you primal.” Crowley snapped his fingers to miracle away his and the angel’s clothing. He picked Aziraphale up, tossing the angel over his shoulder with ease.

“My goodness, Crowley, what do you think you’re...ah!” He exclaimed as Crowley slapped the angel’s plush arse cheek. 

“Hush, you. You wanted to be ravaged, didn’t you?” Crowley stated as he marched deeper into the back of the shop and up the stairs that led to the small bedroom. Aziraphale could hear the smirk in the demon’s voice.

Crowley flipped Aziraphale onto the bed before taking a step back to gaze at him longingly. “Just look at you. I want to kiss every inch of you. I don’t even know where to start...” He whispered.

“I have a few ideas...” Aziraphale murmured, blushing.

“I’m sure you do,” Crowley purred. He crawled up to the bed and pushed Aziraphale flat on his back. He ran his hands down his lover’s chest with a faint scratch of sharp nails. Aziraphale arched his back into the sensation and let out a wanton moan. Crowley slid down Aziraphale’s body and bent one of the angel’s legs up, so he could press a kiss to his ankle bone. He trailed his tongue up the other’s calf, stopped to kiss the crook of his knee. Aziraphale squirmed and let out a high giggle. “Hmm...tickles,” he breathed.

Crowley continued his journey upward, kissing and nibbling as he went. He licked at the space where Aziraphale’s thigh met his hip and nuzzled against him. “Turn over on your hands and knees.” He commanded.

“But, I thought you didn’t...” Aziraphale started, but Crowley shushed him, motioning for the angel to turn. Once Aziraphale was displayed before him, Crowley bit into the supple flesh of Aziraphale’s arse, just hard enough to make the angel keen. Crowley licked at the spot before bringing his hands up to spread Aziraphale’s cheeks apart. Without warning, Crowley leaned in to lick at the exposed hole. Aziraphale inhaled sharply. “What are you...ohhhh...” he groaned, pressing back against the demon’s tongue on instinct. Crowley continued to lap at Aziraphale’s entrance before pressing in more firmly, working his long, forked tongue into him. 

“Ohhh, yes, Crowley, that feels...oh my, exquisite...please, more...” The angel babbled. Crowley rubbed his index finger around Aziraphale’s hole next to his tongue, steadily applying more pressure. He slowly pushed his finger inside the angel’s willing body, using it to hold him open so he could shove his tongue in deeper beside it. He miracled his hand slick with lubricant before adding a second finger, twisted them gently. Aziraphale pushed back against the intrusion and moaned loudly. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, seeing stars flash as Crowley crooked his fingers to rub against his prostate. 

“Please, please, I want you inside me, Crowley!” Aziraphale cried out.

“Not yet, angel. Patience.” Crowley replied as he drew his fingers almost all the way out. He pushed a third finger into the angel and pumped them in and out, rapidly increasing his pace. He continued to work him with his tongue, alternating between licking around his opening and pushing his tongue in alongside his fingers. After a few moments Aziraphale couldn’t take it any longer. “Crowley, Crowley, please for the love of – I need you!” he begged. Crowley pushed his fingers all the way into Aziraphale once more before he leaned back and slowly withdrew. He grinned. “Alright, darling, because you begged so prettily. On your back.”

Aziraphale threw himself onto his back, almost kneeing Crowley’s chin in his haste. “Yes, yes, yes," he chanted. Crowley cupped the angel’s cheek and kissed him with surprising tenderness. He settled between the angel’s splayed legs and guided his cock to press against Aziraphale’s entrance. He hooked one of Aziraphale’s knees over each of his elbows, shifting forward to rest his palms against the bed, bending the angel almost in half underneath him. He locked eyes with Aziraphale before slowly pushing into him.  

“Oh...g-fuck!” Aziraphale cried, arching his back and trying to shove himself down on the demon’s cock. Crowley chuckled, grabbing Aziraphale’s hip to still him. He kissed Aziraphale, open-mouthed, giving the angel a few moments to adjust. He broke the kiss and rested their foreheads together as he pushed in until their hips were flush.

Crowley let out a moan. “Fuck, angel...Aziraphale...you feel incredible. So hot, tight. Like your body was made for me.”

“Yes, my love, yes, I’m yours,” Aziraphale sucked in a breath and met Crowley’s eyes. “Fuck me, please.”

Crowley gasped, his resolve shattering. He drew back and then snapped forward, grinding his hips against Aziraphale’s arse to force himself deeper before pulling back to fuck into the angel again and again. Aziraphale moaned and writhed beneath him, crying out his name. Crowley kissed Aziraphale hard, their tongues battling for dominance. Aziraphale bit down hard on the demon’s lower lip, causing Crowley to gasp into the angel’s mouth.

He leaned back onto his heels as he slid both arms under the other’s hips, pulling him forward so that Aziraphale was in his lap, the angel’s legs wrapped around his waist. He continued to thrust up as Aziraphale ground his hips downward, matching Crowley’s pace. Aziraphale raked his nails harshly down Crowley’s back. Crowley cried out, gripping Aziraphale’s shoulders, pushing himself deeper inside. He then fell forward, laying Aziraphale on his back once more. He slid a hand between their bodies to grasp Aziraphale’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. After only a few strokes Crowley felt Aziraphale clench around him as he came with a shuttered moan. Crowley bit down into the angel’s neck to stifle his own cries, coming deep inside the angel’s body.

The two laid pressed together, panting for a moment, Crowley’s face still buried against Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale ran his hands soothingly over Crowley’s back, feeling the raised marks he had left. Crowley kissed and licked at the spot on Aziraphale’s neck where he had bitten down, feeling the indentations left behind by his sharp teeth. Finally, Crowley slowly withdrew from the angel’s body, rolling onto his back and tugging Aziraphale with him so that his head rested against Crowley’s chest. 

“That was...woah,” Crowley said, still out of breath.

“Indeed,” Aziraphale replied with a slight laugh. “I would say we did quite a bit better than last time.”

Crowley snorted, ruffling the angel’s hair. “So, I should probably get going...” He started. Aziraphale smacked the demon’s shoulder. “Kidding, kidding!”

“Too soon, Crowley,” Aziraphale groaned, smacking his shoulder again.

“Right,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. His voice turned serious. “I really am sorry about all that.” He kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head.

Aziraphale leaned up on one elbow to look at Crowley. “I know,” he replied, leaning in to kiss him. “I forgive you. As long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” Crowley assured him. “I’m staying right here.” He paused. “If you’ll have me.” He added, silently cursing himself for how pathetic it sounded.

Aziraphale giggled. “Oh, I’ll certainly have you, if that’s what you’d like.”

“Angel!” Crowley gasped, scandalized.

Aziraphale laughed again. “Forgive me, my dear, but I think that, given the situation, I am allowed the occasional dirty joke.”

Crowley snickered. “I suppose,” he said. “As long as you’re willing to follow through on the idea.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Of course, darling. After all, practice makes perfect.”

 

[1] Try as he might, there were certain aspects of Crowley's demonic nature, and his original form, that he could not hide at the most normal of times, let alone when his emotions ran high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that! I hope you all enjoyed the story. Like I mentioned earlier, this is my first fic in ages and my first attempt at smut, so I do hope it came out alright. This last chapter definitely catered more toward Arizaphale's desires, so I might write a one-off about Crowley's. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr at persephonesxreign if anyone ever wants to drop me a line. 
> 
> Most importantly, thank you so, SO much for all the comments and kudos. They really make the effort worthwhile!
> 
> I have a new story up at https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391362. It's full of angst, but I'd really love to know what you all think!


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